Post by thecoldvein on Aug 9, 2012 11:29:29 GMT -10
Approximately a week ago, two months after Victor and Nora Fries disappearance in the Horn of Africa.
“I've crafted your virus, and you still will not let us go,” said Dr. Victor Fries with an inflection of desperate frustration, “What else would you have us endure? I've crafted the virus, experimented it on my best friend and ex-bodyguard, and diligently noted its effects as it rendered his body into a coma. Without an utterance of resistance, despite the complete devestation of any morals or principles I once held, and 'dutifully' noted precisely the moment of viral mutation within the 'host' as it began to wither him from within to without. I still do not know who any of you are, and yet you lot, concealed behind your one-way glass, observing and intruding only when it is necessary to resume the gutting of my soul and inner-fortitude.”
Fries stood not unlike a monolith in a highly illuminated white laboratory, filled with medical science technology and equipment every bit State-of-the-art as it was sterile. The room itself was not more than twenty five feet in height, allowing for an observation room set at an elevated position, as to have the ability to keep a close eye on their abductee.
A voice filled the room from several speakers, also concealed, “Dr. Fries, we understand you are exhausted, but you must understand you are no position to lose your composure.”
Another voice, this one had more of an Tenor tone than his colleague's baritone “Yes, yes. We understand.”
The other voice continued, “And, considering we are so tolerant of such behavior, and in fact, forgiving, too, we've decided that we would not only reveal the rest of our plans, but who we are.”
Again the Tenor, “Yes, so that, finally, you understand.”
A soft bell sound slipped through the speakers, and the one-way glass began to descend into the wall. Standing in the observation room were three men, two of the men Fries knew, and the other was a bald man he had never acquainted himself with.
Fries was utterly astonished at the presence of the two men, “You! The two of you! You're both from Beta Pharmaceuticals!” Fries pointed at the man centered between the others, “You're the CEO! You're Benjamin O'Reilly! Why? Is this all for petty revenge? May I remind you that it was your actions that made that lawsuit a reality! My wife would have never even know of you fools had it not been for decades upon decades of the... immoral abuses and horrors you lot have committed on the poor and the needy.”
The bald man, wearing a tailored suit that had a price-tag that could possibly match the cost of the technology in the room, spoke to Fries through a Salesman's smile, “Dr. Fries, this goes beyond vengeance. My colleagues here have history with you and your lovely wife, but that is just a facet of this process, albeit an important one.”
“Then what higher motive goes beyond the one of baseless revenge?” asked Fries, “Who are you, anyway? Explain yourself.”
The bald man continued to smile, “Ah, I'm surprised you don't recognize me from the press. I am Metropolis' Lex Luthor, you might have heard of my multinational corporation: LexCorp. And the higher motive, you ask? Well, I can only give you a single word response: Profit.”
The man with the Tenor voice piggy-backed on Luthor's sentence, “We are going to sell your virus to the highest bidder, Fries.”
“And, as you may know, the market for the newest and most deadly means of warfare are always attracting the wealthiest of the bidding bunch,” said O'Reilly, who looked as if he had an exclusive ticket to Satan's penthouse.
“Greed. How utterly predictable is that?” Fries felt as if he had been exploited, and what was left of his former self was hardly recognizable by any standards. “I'm sure you'll reap a massive bounty for my unwarranted 'masterpiece', but I am also certain nternational law will not be so quick to stamp approval on this product. And, if they do, I will not, so it appears that my time here has come to its conclusion, in a multitude of ways.”
“Don't you worry your head about the government, Fries. Especially when government subsidies and private Military corporations with government contracts are the primary purchasers we will be conducting business with,” said Luthor, further mocking Fries as if he more so commodity than human.
O'Reilly continues, “But we are not going to destroy your existence, Fries. Despite the whole world believing that you are long gone at this point, and it matters not, regardless. What we have accomplished here is synonymous with death, and actually in reality, will facilitate death.”
“I'm afraid I do not follow, Mr. O'Reilly,” said Fries with contempt.
The wall to the left of Fries began ascending, and gave way to a second room. In the room was a large pneumatic chamber with a large porthole-shaped window in the center of it, inside was Nora Fries suspended in stasis. Victor ran, and threw himself against the chamber.
“What did you do? What is wrong with her?” cried Fries, and the room grew darker and the world did, too.
“You've seen these effects in someone you cared about before, Fries,” said O'Reilly, “You mentioned your bodyguard earlier.”
“No... NO!” cried Fries again.
“The virus, FV03, the same virus you crafted...” said the other Beta executive.
“Why have you done this?” Fries was on his knees, looking up at his wife, “Why? Why...”
O'Reilly hovered over him like a vulture, waiting to feast upon his decomposing spirit, “Because, Fries. The world is cold.”
Laughter.
“I've crafted your virus, and you still will not let us go,” said Dr. Victor Fries with an inflection of desperate frustration, “What else would you have us endure? I've crafted the virus, experimented it on my best friend and ex-bodyguard, and diligently noted its effects as it rendered his body into a coma. Without an utterance of resistance, despite the complete devestation of any morals or principles I once held, and 'dutifully' noted precisely the moment of viral mutation within the 'host' as it began to wither him from within to without. I still do not know who any of you are, and yet you lot, concealed behind your one-way glass, observing and intruding only when it is necessary to resume the gutting of my soul and inner-fortitude.”
Fries stood not unlike a monolith in a highly illuminated white laboratory, filled with medical science technology and equipment every bit State-of-the-art as it was sterile. The room itself was not more than twenty five feet in height, allowing for an observation room set at an elevated position, as to have the ability to keep a close eye on their abductee.
A voice filled the room from several speakers, also concealed, “Dr. Fries, we understand you are exhausted, but you must understand you are no position to lose your composure.”
Another voice, this one had more of an Tenor tone than his colleague's baritone “Yes, yes. We understand.”
The other voice continued, “And, considering we are so tolerant of such behavior, and in fact, forgiving, too, we've decided that we would not only reveal the rest of our plans, but who we are.”
Again the Tenor, “Yes, so that, finally, you understand.”
A soft bell sound slipped through the speakers, and the one-way glass began to descend into the wall. Standing in the observation room were three men, two of the men Fries knew, and the other was a bald man he had never acquainted himself with.
Fries was utterly astonished at the presence of the two men, “You! The two of you! You're both from Beta Pharmaceuticals!” Fries pointed at the man centered between the others, “You're the CEO! You're Benjamin O'Reilly! Why? Is this all for petty revenge? May I remind you that it was your actions that made that lawsuit a reality! My wife would have never even know of you fools had it not been for decades upon decades of the... immoral abuses and horrors you lot have committed on the poor and the needy.”
The bald man, wearing a tailored suit that had a price-tag that could possibly match the cost of the technology in the room, spoke to Fries through a Salesman's smile, “Dr. Fries, this goes beyond vengeance. My colleagues here have history with you and your lovely wife, but that is just a facet of this process, albeit an important one.”
“Then what higher motive goes beyond the one of baseless revenge?” asked Fries, “Who are you, anyway? Explain yourself.”
The bald man continued to smile, “Ah, I'm surprised you don't recognize me from the press. I am Metropolis' Lex Luthor, you might have heard of my multinational corporation: LexCorp. And the higher motive, you ask? Well, I can only give you a single word response: Profit.”
The man with the Tenor voice piggy-backed on Luthor's sentence, “We are going to sell your virus to the highest bidder, Fries.”
“And, as you may know, the market for the newest and most deadly means of warfare are always attracting the wealthiest of the bidding bunch,” said O'Reilly, who looked as if he had an exclusive ticket to Satan's penthouse.
“Greed. How utterly predictable is that?” Fries felt as if he had been exploited, and what was left of his former self was hardly recognizable by any standards. “I'm sure you'll reap a massive bounty for my unwarranted 'masterpiece', but I am also certain nternational law will not be so quick to stamp approval on this product. And, if they do, I will not, so it appears that my time here has come to its conclusion, in a multitude of ways.”
“Don't you worry your head about the government, Fries. Especially when government subsidies and private Military corporations with government contracts are the primary purchasers we will be conducting business with,” said Luthor, further mocking Fries as if he more so commodity than human.
O'Reilly continues, “But we are not going to destroy your existence, Fries. Despite the whole world believing that you are long gone at this point, and it matters not, regardless. What we have accomplished here is synonymous with death, and actually in reality, will facilitate death.”
“I'm afraid I do not follow, Mr. O'Reilly,” said Fries with contempt.
The wall to the left of Fries began ascending, and gave way to a second room. In the room was a large pneumatic chamber with a large porthole-shaped window in the center of it, inside was Nora Fries suspended in stasis. Victor ran, and threw himself against the chamber.
“What did you do? What is wrong with her?” cried Fries, and the room grew darker and the world did, too.
“You've seen these effects in someone you cared about before, Fries,” said O'Reilly, “You mentioned your bodyguard earlier.”
“No... NO!” cried Fries again.
“The virus, FV03, the same virus you crafted...” said the other Beta executive.
“Why have you done this?” Fries was on his knees, looking up at his wife, “Why? Why...”
O'Reilly hovered over him like a vulture, waiting to feast upon his decomposing spirit, “Because, Fries. The world is cold.”
Laughter.